


Perfection

by chidoryo



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bottom Madara, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Smut, Top Hashirama, dorky boyfriends, hair porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidoryo/pseuds/chidoryo
Summary: In which Madara finds the true meaning of perfection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This is my first time posting a work of mine. I'm a little nervous, but I'd love to get some feedback :') 
> 
> Special thanks to my homie uchihacest for beta-reading and giving me the confidence to publicize this.
> 
> Enjoy!

A prominent frown marred the irritated Uchiha’s brow as he glared at the single sentence written on his notepad.

_ In a perfect world…  _

How the hell would Madara know what a perfect world entailed? As a junior in college, the only perfect world he knew included ditching this shitty creative writing class and leaving this even shittier university to do  _ anything  _ but this project.  _ Or anyone. _ Madara smirked at the thought of the Senju that he was privileged enough to share a bed with and call his lover. Being able to find himself under that man at any moment he chose… now that's a perfect world. 

However, the kind of world that revolved around Madara throwing the finger to his responsibilities to fuck Hashirama definitely wouldn't persuade Indra to hand over an A. Madara could already see the unimpressed brow of his professor raise high into his long bangs with a bored,  _ “Do it over.”  _ He’d heard that cold statement many times before. Madara was sure he was a hair’s length away from getting kicked out. While it didn't seem like such a bad idea, he needed the credits in order to graduate. 

He closed his eyes and let his index and middle fingers press into his temples. Of all the concepts he wrote about, Madara could never comprehend “perfection.” It was too broad, held too many expectations that not everyone would agree with. It was too simple, yet it held such complexity that even Madara’s esteemed, super-human Uchiha brain couldn't fathom. This was gonna be a long night. 

Madara heard movement behind him and lifted his eyes from the notepad with a quiet sigh, “Don't even think about it, Senju.” 

Hashirama froze in place, ready to surprise Madara before he’d been caught, and instantly deflated. “Madara, you've been glued to this desk since you got back to the dorm. Will you please take a break?”

“If I don't get this project done, Otsutsuki will have my ass.” Madara buried his left hand into his hair stubbornly, taking the pen back between his lithe fingers. 

Hashirama glanced over Madara’s shoulder and sighed. “You're overthinking. You definitely aren't going to get any results by pouting at the paper.” Hashirama slid his fingers along Madara’s and pulled it from his hair, bringing them to his lips. He smiled triumphantly as he felt the Uchiha’s muscles relax at the action. “I made some salmon with egg and rice, you're favorite.”

Madara turned away from the desk completely and sighed in relief. What would he do without Hashirama? Madara pulled the taller man down to his level and pressed his lips hard against the other’s. Hashirama smiled against Madara’s lips, sensing the appreciation. He tucked the man’s long fringe behind his ear so he could see both eyes and pulled back from the kiss to nuzzle Madara’s forehead. “You're welcome. Don't stress it too much, babe.”

As Hashirama brushed the back of his fingers against Madara’s warm cheek and disappeared into the kitchen area of their dorm, Madara took a deep breath and stood from the desk. He stretched his limbs which had been locked in the same position for who knows how long. Madara used the hair tie on his wrist to put his long hair into a messy bun from which many rebellious strands fell back over his right eye. He rolled his eyes as he tried to fix what he could in the mirror on the wall. As Hashirama once said, this thing had a mind of its own.

Madara trudged out to the kitchen, rubbing his eye and pressed himself against Hashirama’s broad back. He groaned childishly and dug his face into the Senju’s shoulder blade. “What about you, Mr. Cool and Collected? How is pre-med treating you?” Madara grumpily inquired. 

Hashirama chuckled in amusement as he continued adding the finishing spices to the fish. It smelled like heaven. 

“It’s a lot.” he sighed, running one hand down the length of Madara’s arm around his midsection. “In lab, my partner and I found a possibility of using extracts from wood to create a medicine to cure a common cold. Ashura said it was a reach, but it could happen.” Hashirama’s voice was colored with pride as he turned the stove off.

Madara smiled and rubbed at his boyfriend’s stomach in approval. “Hn. Pretty soon you'll be finding cures to cancer.” 

Hashirama rolled his eyes, but Madara could see the redness on the tips of his ears.

Hashirama served the fish, rice, and eggs on two plates and they ate at the small circular table in a comfortable silence. Madara watched Hashirama’s face, and he knew the older man was thinking intensely about something. When asked about it, Hashirama easily steered away from the topic and instead started a game of footsie under the table. While at first Madara had barked at him to grow up, he found himself avidly participating with a ghost of a smile.  _ Dork _ .

“Thanks for dinner.” Madara stood from the table picking up their empty plates and made his way to the sink to wash the dishes and resign himself back to his work.

Before he could get past Hashirama, the man’s hand shot out and caught the rim of Madara’s waistband. Madara looked down at him curiously. 

“Wait on the bed for me?” Hashirama spoke quietly but it rang loud through Madara’s mind. A sudden heat blossomed in the younger man’s stomach as he nodded and continued on his path to place the dirty dishes in the sink. However, with his plan foiled, he turned on his heel and walked back into their room. The heat of the Senju’s gaze was hot on his lower back and goosebumps were soon covering every inch of Madara’s skin. 

Madara laid on the bed, glancing at the lonely desk in the corner. He definitely felt more relaxed about walking away from the cursed paper he had yet to write, but now his muscles were tense for a whole new reason. His attention was brought back to the other presence in the dorm as Hashirama turned the faucet on to wash the dishes. Madara was immediately reminded of the warmth making itself known in his lower stomach. He knew better than anyone what the husk in Hashirama Senju’s voice meant. 

Despite his relaxed and kind exterior, Hashirama had a dark strength within him that only Madara ever got a glimpse of. The Uchiha was as closed off as anyone could get, but with Hashirama he had no choice but to let himself be spread open like a book. Madara blushed at the mere thought of all the times Hashirama had reduced the proud lion of a man to a helpless kitten. Madara wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself but overtime it became something he looked forward to. Hashirama could dominate him physically and could keep up with him mentally and intellectually. It was unheard of for anyone to rival an Uchiha unless it was another Uchiha. Hashirama blew that theory to pieces. It was such a goddamn turn on. 

A hand had slipped into the waist of Madara’s sweats and started palming the growing erection that was now becoming hard to ignore. 

“Couldn’t even wait until I got here?” Hashirama purred from his stance against the doorframe of their room. 

Madara opened his eyes, his breath coming in heavy pants already. “Just get over here, Senju..”

Hashirama was on the bed before Madara could even sit up properly. A heavy hand yanked both Madara’s wrists into a tight grip and held them against the pillow. Punishment for having touched himself before Hashirama. 

Madara whined, but didn't fight it once Hashirama’s lips had descended onto his own. The kiss started closed lipped before Hashirama licked across Madara’s lips, then against his tongue once granted entrance. Madara squirmed in Hashirama’s grasp, wanting nothing more than to pull the shirt from the man’s body and feel the muscles that resided there.

Hashirama felt the attempt at escaping, and only tightened his grip as the other hand reached down to push under the material of Madara’s shirt. Madara exhaled a sharp breath into Hashirama’s mouth, deepening the kiss with the tilt of his head.  _ Please _ .

The squeak of the bed springs were deafening in their quiet bubble of pleasure as Madara lifted one leg to wrap around the Senju’s hips, hoping to establish some movement between their heated groins. 

“Hashi...” Madara whispered breathlessly between kisses, his voice grew higher in pitch as a response to the tension growing in his body. He arched his back, rolling against Hashirama’s waist. 

Thankfully, Hashirama was feeling especially generous tonight. That or the nickname that Madara had adopted for him had worked in his favor yet again. Hashirama kept the Uchiha’s legs parted wide and proceeded to grind his full length against Madara’s. A long moan sounded musical as it left Madara’s throat. 

Hashirama smirked and they continued on like that, hips rolling, muscles in Madara’s shoulders starting to ache from the pressing position of his arms. He wanted more. 

Hashirama pulled away from the kiss and released Madara’s likely bruised wrists to pull the lube and condoms from the side table drawer. He tossed them onto the bed beside them and a wave of excitement fell over Madara. Now that he was free he wasn't going to get himself caught again. He buried a hand in Hashirama’s equally long hair and pulled him into another kiss.

Madara’s hands worked quickly, reaching for the bottom of Hashirama’s shirt and pulling it over his head, not breaking the kiss until the last necessary second. The shirt fell, unnoticed to the ground and Madara pulled back to admire his man’s body. His dark gaze followed the curvature of Hashirama's collarbone and soon his hands were doing the same. Madara’s hands slowly ran down the width of Hashirama’s chest, down to his stomach just as Hashirama began pushing Madara’s shirt up his torso, exposing pale skin to his view inch by inch.

Madara sat up and raised his arms to allow the shirt to come off. Suddenly, the pace had slowed between them. The thud of Madara’s shirt was ignored as Madara’s arms came around Hashirama’s shoulders, kissing the man firmly on the lips. A quiet moan from Madara was stuck between their lips at the now bare skin contact. 

Hashirama slowly lowered them back to the surface of the bed, laying his body flush against Madara’s and continuing the steady rock of their hips. Steady, strong hands of a soon to be doctor held Madara’s face as he delivered the most passionate kiss he’d given in a long time. It reduced Madara to a pile of mush and his brain was short circuiting to only acknowledge this man on top of him. 

Madara’s hands ran up the length of Hashirama’s thick biceps. The slick noises of the wet kiss only added to Madara’s acute awareness of the situation. A sweat had begun to accumulate on his chest and from his hairline. He needed Hashirama. 

Hashirama must have heard Madara’s thoughts because soon he was hooking his fingers under the waistband of Madara’s sweatpants and pulling them down the Uchiha’s legs fluidly. Hashirama was only mildly surprised to see Madara’s lack of underwear. He knew about Madara’s aversion to the “restraining” clothing when it's just them in the dorm. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ...” Madara pulled away from the kiss and moaned once he was laid bare before Hashirama. It wasn't hard to detect the relief in the man’s voice as his freed erection stood, weeping and almost visibly throbbing. 

Hashirama hummed in response and made quick work of reducing his clothing count so they were both naked on the dark sheets. 

It was clear neither were interested in continuing the foreplay. Sex was almost potent in the room despite them only recently ridding themselves of clothing.

Hashirama rolled them over so he was laying with his back pressed to the headboard and Madara straddling his lap. 

Fuck, if Hashirama wasn't such a smart and observant bastard. He knew what he was doing now. Hashirama knew that Madara felt most in  command when he was riding the man’s cock. Something about controlling the pace while still being the one to receive spiked Madara’s blood with rich satisfaction. Hashirama was treating him. Madara didn't have control of the assignment, so he'd give him control of their sex tonight. 

Hashirama smirked as he met Madara’s knowing gaze and reached up to yank the tie from his hair, letting Madara’s hair pool over his shoulders in messy waves. Madara bit his lip at the obvious challenge and reached for the lube, uncapping it quickly and applying it to his fingers before closing the tube and reaching back to prepare himself. 

Without breaking the gaze, Hashirama grabbed the condom pack and ripped it open with his teeth before rolling it over his pulsating cock. He held the base, ready whenever Madara was. 

In record timing, Madara found his own prostate and furrowed his eyebrows tightly. He let out a shout of a moan before adding another finger and using both to massage the spot, effectively loosening the tension of his ass. Hashirama’s fingers squeezing and kneading the muscles of Madara’s thigh patiently almost forced Madara to say fuck it to the preparation. However, Hashirama wasn't small and no matter how many times they had sex that wasn't going to change, so Madara had to suck it up and make sure his ass wouldn't get ripped to pieces. 

After several grueling moments, Madara pulled his fingers out with a wet sound that would have made a school girl blush and he moved to align himself with the head of Hashirama’s dick.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out, Senju...”

Hashirama growled in response and placed both his hands on Madara’s slim hips as the smaller man slowly began to descend, swallowing every inch of the Senju with ease. Yep, the wait for Madara’s prep was definitely worth it. 

Soon enough, Hashirama had bottomed out and Madara sat comfortably in Hashirama’s lap, back arched and chest heaving with deep breaths that he struggled desperately to control. 

“Holy shit..” Hashirama voiced his pleasure as he parted his legs and flexed his hips slightly as if there was anymore for him to push into the Uchiha. 

Madara shivered at the slight movement as it grazed his prostate and looked down at the man who was buried so deep inside of him. Madara couldn't help himself as he forced his lips against Hashirama’s. The kiss was hard and quick and it elicited a deep grunt from the Senju that Madara liked more than he should. He did it again and this time the grunt had turned into a growl and Madara heard a loud clapping noise as Hashirama brought his hand down on Madara’s ass cheek. 

“Get on with it, Madara. Fuck me.” 

Madara whimpered at the slap and bit down on his lip, the pout evident in his eyes as he lifted himself with the strength of his thighs. The small amount of friction caused a dribble of pre-cum to gather at the tip of Madara’s cock and slowly descend down the underside of the hot flesh. Hashirama watched it hungrily and felt his dull nails dig into the pale skin of Madara’s hip and the same ass cheek he had assaulted a moment before.

When Madara slammed himself back down onto Hashirama’s cock, both let out a moan of relief and before long their pace had become well established and the rocking motions of their bodies fluidly moving together caused the headboard to knock against the wall rhythmically.

Madara was positively wrecked as his hips ground against Hashirama’s. The tip of his dick constantly rubbed against Madara’s prostate with every thrust of the smaller’s hips.

“ _ Fuck… Ahn... Ahn, Hashirama… Right there… _ ” Madara panted breathlessly against Hashirama's lips. One hand braced against the moving headboard as the other kept a tight hold of the Senju’s shoulder, likely leaving scratch marks and nail imprints on the tanned skin. His hair was plastered to his face and shoulders from the amount of perspiration. It was so hot, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

Hashirama watched, entranced, as Madara seemed to lose himself. Because of him. A deep groan left him as he leaned up to place a kiss under the Uchiha’s jaw. “Oh, God, Madara…”

Hashirama had started to thrust in order to increase the friction, trying to reach even deeper inside Madara, needing to get closer.

“ _ Faster… Harder…Unngh _ ” Madara threw his head back as he mumbled to himself, listening to his own words and thrusting his hips faster. Hashirama held Madara’s hips in a bruising grip and thrust into him as hard he could, the two working together to reach the nearing climax. 

“ _ Holy shit, Hashi, ah… ah, please don't stop, you fucker! _ ” Hashirama smirked at the response, again finding himself watching beads of sweat crawl down the Uchiha’s pale body as he flexed all his muscles in his attempts to speed up the pace. 

The squeak of the bed and banging of the headboard against the wall, paired with Madara’s vulgar moans of ecstasy left Hashirama nearly brain dead with lust. He needed to make this man come undone or he was gonna lose his mind. 

Without thinking, Hashirama rolled them over again and flipped Madara over onto his stomach, temporarily separating them. Madara groaned in displeasure and spread his thighs, arching his back like a cat in heat, ready to receive. Hashirama used the hair tie that Madara had been using and tied up his hair into a haphazard bun when the heat became uncomfortable. 

Wiping his sweaty forehead with the palm of his hand and wiping it on Madara’s hip, Hashirama plunged back into the shaking Uchiha, earning him a happy purr of pleasure.

Madara gripped the sheets tightly in preparation for what was coming. He felt Hashirama separate his knees a little more before the Senju was yanking him back onto his cock without resolve, pounding into his prostate with practiced expertise. 

“ _ Oh… Fuck!”  _ Madara was nearly sobbing with pleasure. The obscenely wet slap of their skin meeting over and over made him dizzy, drool beginning to pool at the corner of his parted lips. “ _ Hashirama… ahn, I’m gonna cum… Hah… Ahn, ahn _ !” 

Madara’s moans became pitched. His feet curled around the backs of Hashirama’s knees to keep the man close as he began to shove himself back against his cock.

Hashirama could feel the tightening of Madara’s insides and immediately he knew he was done for. He gripped the Uchiha’s shoulder tightly as he continued to slam into him. The pace slowed down so Hashirama could take his time grinding the head of his cock against Madara’s prostate, but the force with which Hashirama thrusted seemed to double in power. 

“Mmm, c’mon, baby..” Hashirama whispered as he reached between Madara’s wide spread legs to take hold of the bobbing erection that had begun to make a puddle of pre cum between Madara’s knees. Hashirama began to pump his shaft from root to tip, his other hand sliding up Madara’s chest to tweak a sensitive nipple. 

Madara pushed back forcefully against Hashirama’s cock as it pressed heavenly against his abused prostate.  _ Oh, god, _ Madara thought.  _ I’m gonna die… _

A long moan left Madara as he turned his head, catching the Senju by his hair, he pulled the man in for a sloppy kiss of tongues and teeth and swollen lips. Loose strands of Hashirama’s hair tickled Madara’s cheeks, but his mind was so far gone that he couldn't even bring himself to care. Hashirama’s hand was still pumping Madara’s throbbing shaft, hips massaging the head of his cock into his prostate, and Madara knew for a fact this man was going to fuck him to death.

Madara panted against Hashirama’s parted lips, their uncontrolled breathing clashing, “ _ Gonna cum… gonna…”  _

With a sigh of relief, Madara threw his head back and moaned loudly as strings of cum spurted from his cock and onto his lower stomach as well as Hashirama’s hand.

The quickened pulsating of Madara’s asshole as he orgasmed undid Hashirama and with one last thrust, and a mighty roar of his own, he emptied himself into the condom. He briefly wished he could simply breed the Uchiha’s hole, but he knew it was less messy this way. 

They stayed like that, panting in the comfortable aftermath until Madara spoke, out of breath. “Fucking hell… Ungh..” He groaned, his body still humming and pulsing happily from the ground shattering orgasm that had quite literally rocked his world. 

Hashirama moved first, placing slow kisses down the curve of Madara’s arched, sweaty back before licking the same path back up to the nape of his neck. He loved Madara’s taste and the shiver he got in response. 

Pulling out as slowly as possible to torture the puddle of Uchiha beneath him, Hashirama tied up and threw away the condom. Madara seemed to purr as he lay on his side,  breathing deeply with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

Hashirama padded to the bathroom and returned in a flash, before Madara could complain about his absence, with a damp rag. Hashirama made quick work of wiping Madara stomach clean of his own essence before placing the rag on the table and kissing the same spot, biting and sucking a hickey into the skin there. Madara arched his back and his hips squirmed at the sudden assault, oversensitivity licking at his body as he moaned at the Senju’s touch.

“Fuck..” Madara whispered breathlessly as Hashirama slid back up the length of Madara’s body to press a gentler kiss to his lips.  _ This _ was perfection. The love and adoration that Hashirama poured into this man each and every time he got the chance was utterly perfect. Madara smiled, really smiled, as they continued to kiss and bask in the remains of their pleasure. 

“I fucking love you, Senju.” Madara stated sleepily, kitten kisses beginning to veer off the other’s lips and onto his chin and jaw.

“And I love you.”

\--

A nap, a quick shower, and two cups of tea found the two snuggled in their bed about two hours later. Hashirama sat with Madara between his legs and the man would take breaks between braiding the Uchiha’s still drying hair to sip his tea.

Madara had encased himself in his writing. Hand furiously creating words that turned into sentences which eventually became pages upon pages. Madara was more than elated to continue the project he had barely started at the beginning of the evening. Three pages in, Hashirama asked what he had chosen to write about which only earned him a blush from the Uchiha and a growl stating that it “wasn't any of his business.”

However, while Hashirama played with Madara’s hair he caught a few glimpses over his shoulder of a certain recurring word in the man’s writing.  _ Love _ .

Hashirama smiled behind the rim of his cup and he just knew that the warm feeling in his chest was not brought upon by the tea he was drinking. 

Indeed, love was a thing of perfection. 


End file.
